


Without You

by White_Ibis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Drug Use, Drunkenness, F/M, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Ibis/pseuds/White_Ibis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Inquisitor sacrifices herself to heal the sky and destroy Corypheus she leaves those around her, including her beloved Commander, to pick up the pieces. </p>
<p>A fill for this lovely prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12606.html?thread=49459518#t49459518</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Letter

 

The hardest part, he decided, was that their room still smelled like her. Citrus, something sweet, and the toasted smell of campfire from whatever journey she had just returned from.

Cullen sat at the foot of the immaculately made bed, she had always insisted it be made that way, eyes fixated out the far too sunny world out window ahead of him. How long had it been? A week or a day? Every moment since she had been gone had blended together in one foggy cloud. Guests and old friends hustled in and out of Skyhold, giving their grievances.

A black gloved hand rubbed at the corners of his heavy eyelids. When he removed it he couldn't help but notice how much smaller he looked in his formal attire. It was simple, black velvet with leather accents and simple gold buttons running all the way up to his neck.

"Maker!" He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the sound of her voice. "You look even more like a seasick lion than at the Winter Palace." She would only hold her booming laugh a little to spare his feelings. Cullen did his best to remember the sensation of Evelyn's slender hand playing with one of his unstyled locks.

"Swear it looks like an Antivan Funeral out there. I've never seen so much black lace." That was Josephine's doing. Even for something like a funeral she felt the need to go over the top.

"Who died?" He could feel her playful smirk at the end of the question.

_You did._

He would go to a hundred Orlesian masquerades if he could hear that laugh one more time. A thousand if he could see a glimpse of her. Cullen would willingly go to one everyday if it meant she would be able to walk through the door one more time and-

The sound of the bedroom door opening jolted him at full attention. A couple measures of a minor key song drifted in from the main hall below causing his head to snap at attention of the staircase, anxious knots building in the pit of his stomach.

"Cullen?" The voice quickly identified as Josephine was heard, crushing the small feeling of longing that was growing within him. Of course, her footsteps were nothing like Evelyn's. Far too refined and practiced. Slow and methodological. There was a small flash of relief across her tan face once she reached the top of the stairs.

"Good, you're dressed." Her hair was let down in long black ringlets which blended into her draping equally as black dress. The bodice was fitted and embellished with black embroidery of some sort of flower Cullen could not recognize. The skirt bowed out in a soft bell shape around her hips and hung down to about a couple of inches off the floor to keep her heels from tripping over it. A long black lace shawl draped elegantly across her shoulders, small delicate tassels dangled from it brushing against her elbows. The ensemble would be considered very beautiful if he had not known the occasion it was being worn for.

Josephine's heels clicked away the silence as she approached him. There was a small and forced smile on her lips. Still keeping up appearances even after everything that has happened. How very like her. Cullen returned his attention to the window, desperately wishing to be anywhere else. He felt her gentle hand rest on his shoulder once she reached him, but his gaze was unwavering. Josephine stood there for a moment, searching for something to say.

"Oh!" Her fake surprise was not convincing. "Seems like you haven't fixed your hair yet. Let me help you." She scurried to his side of the bed, opening up his bed side drawer quickly and rummaged loudly through it before returning to him with his comb and a blue glass jar of styling balm in her hands.

"Here we are." She nudged his chin up to look at her before unscrewing the lid of the small container. "I used to help my little brothers get ready for formal events when they were young. Should only take a moment."

Not even Evelyn had dared to mess with his hair he realized. Any form of disgust Cullen should have felt by this obvious display of mortifying pity was quickly extinguished by the gnawing emptiness that now resided in his chest. As her delicate tan hands worked through his hair she prattled on about some story about her brother Antoine. Something about pie. He closed his eyes, hoping he could imagine Josephine as someone else for a moment but quickly gave up as he opened them once more. The comb scraped his scalp slightly, causing him to wince and Josephine to apologize before continuing her story. Cullen wished she and everyone would just leave him alone. Just lock the door and stay in here forever. Or better yet somehow stop existing. Just blip out of existence like Evelyn did. Anything to escape this numb grey world that she left him in.

"Can you believe it?" The change in Josephine's voice caught is attention for a moment. "Mother was furious." A stifled puff of laughter escaped her. "All done." She placed the comb beside him on the bed.

His hair felt a little too tight but couldn't find the will to care about something so pointless. Josephine remained in front of Cullen and he would even describe her as 'calm' if it weren't for the anxious wringing of her hands and the slight bite on her bottom lip. She struggled within herself over a thought before she finally surrendered.

"The others and I were talking and.." For the first time she looked away from him. "And we decided that we wouldn't make you go. If you weren't ready we wouldn't force you. She would understand."

"Just seems pointless." Cullen was almost surprised at how mono-toned the sentence came out of him. He continued to stare at her, head still tipped up from when she moved it. "Who has a funeral if there's no remains?"

Her hazel eyes snapped back to him with shock. Puffy, damp, and red lidded. Good, someone was crying for Evelyn even if he couldn't. Josephine opened her mouth to say something but closed it, lips quivering. Instead she pulled out a handkerchief from her bodice and blotted delicately at her eyes. When the Antivan looked back at him she simply shook her head and spun on her heel to return down the stairs. The door opened and closed once more leaving him alone with the quiet.

_You should go._ The feminine ghost in his head told him. _You'll never forgive yourself if you missed it._

"I already can't forgive myself." Cullen muttered out loud and then immediately felt foolish for doing so. What was he expecting? The empty room to answer back?

Yet he was surprised when he felt himself rise from the bed and follow Josephine's trail down the much longer than remembered staircase. She was right. He needed to go. Not so he could forgive himself, no that wasn't possible, but knowing that if he didn't Evelyn Trevelyan would never let him hear the end of it where she alive.

* * *

A sea of black greeted his vision as he entered the main hall. Dark banners hung in place of the usual crimson and gold ones. A large ebony cloth veiled the thrown at the front of the room, sun illuminating it through the windows and casting a hard glare off of her sword and heavily warped shield was placed gently on top of it. Standing to the right of it was none other than Leliana, though now seeing her in her newly clad Chantry robes Cullen supposed he should start referring to her by her new title. Posture much like Josephine's, poised and practiced.   
  
The hall was filled to the brim with people and far from silent. All around him were a mix of voices floating around in their own conversations, only being interrupted by the sudden wailing of another visitor.   
  
Cullen could only tell where the rest of the Inquistor's inner circle were standing by spotting Iron Bull's horns towering over the rest of the crowd. He should go stand with them, he reasoned, he forced himself to come all the way down here. 

Making his way through the crowd, the sound of his own heart beat in his ears silencing the murmurs of the crowd, he spotted a braided blond head of hair causing him to quickly look at the woman it belonged to. That would be like Evelyn, fake her death and get everyone to worry about her only to reveal that all was fine at her own funeral.    
  
Cullen would pull her small body into her arms before yelling at her for putting him through all this grief. How worried he was. Confessing to her all the dark thoughts that had come to his mind since her passing. She would laugh, unimpressed, cradle his face in his hands so gently and say: "I'm glad to see you too." 

It would be twisted and disgusting that a person do that to their loved ones, but he would forgive her.   
  
A hand tapped the blond woman on the shoulder, causing her to turn to face someone. Her long pointed nose and dark eyes proved that it was not Evelyn. He felt even more idiotic than talking to the empty room.   
  
The service was a fog of faces and condolences. Curt handshakes to full on embraces. How easy it was for them to tell him how sorry they were and what a horrible thing to have happen when Cullen knew full well that their lives would go on as they were before. The world would move on as if she had never existed as a real person, only as some character in a storybook.   
  
His life couldn't go on like that. It was a tapestry that had been burnt in half. A distorted image of happier times laced by destruction. 

Enough time had been spent there he decided, and quickly said short goodbyes to the group before heading back to doorway to Evelyn's quarters. When he reached the doorknob he was aware there was someone behind him.   
  
"Curly?" A husky voice at his waist caught his attention, causing him to turn around. Casting a quick glance downward he saw the owner was none other than Varric. 

The dwarf was usually pretty light spirited, quick with a witty quip or an embarrassing nickname. It was rare to see him this dark, this sad, this serious. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" Cullen must have given him an odd look because he quickly added. "This will only take a moment. There's something you gotta see." 

Cullen nodded and opened the door and the two walked up the stairs together in silence. Once Cullen reached the top of the stairs he continued to walk into the bedroom but stopped when he realized Varric was not in tow. He turned, crossing his arms behind him, straightening his back and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"So? You wanted to show me something?" 

"I didn't want to tell you this until you were ready." His hand fished around in his coat pocket. "But seeing you standing there, a million miles away makes me realize there isn't going to be a good time to give you this. Besides I don't think I'm the one to make that evaluation."   
  
A white envelope was pulled out and handed to him. A name, his name, was written across it.   
  
"Freckles told me about it." The Dwarf swallowed a lump in his throat. "Before she left for battle. It was tucked away in her desk. Not where she said it would be of course but you know how disorganized she is- _was_."   
  
Cullen felt himself flinch slightly at the correction. His hands felt the smooth envelope. It felt far heavier than it was. He looked to Varric and then back at it. 

"Look, you can read it whenever you want. It's your decision now. You can wait-" The Dwarf stopped mid sentence as Cullen quickly turned the envelope over and ripped the flap open. " _Or_ you can read it right now. Because that seems like a good idea."  
  
Cullen responded to the sarcasm with a quick glare. He reached into the envelope, slowly pulled out the letter, and unfolded it. It was only a page long but her writing was so finely and carefully printed, instead of the rushed scribbles he was used to, that it was almost alarming. 

* * *

  
  
_Cullen,_   
  
_I feel stupid even writing this but I know I won't be able to sleep unless I do. I know, and have known, for a long time that there is a good chance I might not be coming back alive from this. There's only a few times one can escape the fade before it finally catches up with you right? I've tried speaking to Solas about it, trying to figure out what would be the best course of action if the fight went poorly but he's dodging my questions._

_I've tried my best to be confident and brave to not worry you. If this is the end for me then I don't want your last memories of me to be corrupted by me being a wet blanket._  
  
 _I don't want to get too soppy but I want to tell you to tell my Mother how much I love her. My brothers and sisters too. Tell them I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused growing up. Constantly getting into fights, stealing things from the other noble's kids when they came to visit, running away, and anything else you can imagine. You know me. I don't blame them in the slightest for never writing to me while I was here. They wanted a proper daughter and I never gave them one._  
  
 _But please tell them that I hope that their screw up Eve-y finally grew up to be someone they can be proud of in the end. I hope I'm someone you're proud of._  
  
 _I ~~'m so scared, but if I don't do this then-~~_  
  
 _ ~~I want to tell everything in this letter personally but-~~  _  
  
 _Cullen, if I could go back knowing what I know now. Knowing how this would end. I would do it all over again. Never doubt that. Knowing you, being with you, has been the brightest part of my life._  
  
 _I'll find someway to make it back to you. I don't know how, but I will._  
  
 _I love you. I love you. I love you._  

* * *

  
  
It when Varric said his name the second time in a row that he realized that his hands were shaking slightly as he gripped the paper tightly.    
  
"Yes?" A tear fell down the side of his face and he quickly wiped it away  
  
"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." The Dwarf knotted his eyebrows together, it was more of a warning than a request.   
  
Cullen let out a puff of what might have been a laugh. "No, no I can't."   
  
"Cullen." Varric reached out to him, but the Commander turned away.   
  
"Please. Just leave."   
  
To Cullen's surprise Varric did not fight him, but instead nodded and promptly left down the stairs and out the door at the base, leaving the room colder and larger than ever.   
  
 _I'll find someway to make it back to you._

_I'll find someway_  
  
His feet wandered back over to the bed, letter still clutched tightly in hand, before sitting down on it. Slowly and then all at once the tears came leaving only the harsh quiet and his sorrow for company. 


	2. A Pint

The tavern was different today. Usual energetic buzz of inquisition members and travelers alike was replaced by something slower and morose. A gathering of friends and strangers trying to forget the funeral held only moments ago.

Dorian had taken a seat by a window on the second floor still dressed in his long black robes. They were very ‘traditional’ in a Tevinter sense, a fact that made the mage shift uncomfortably in his seat and caused others to mutter as he passed by. However they were the only robes he had that seemed somber enough for something so tragic.

Iron Bull had placed a firm hand on his shoulder, before departing downstairs to get drinks. He had said something to him, but Dorian couldn’t remember what. It wasn't particularly important. Somewhere below a song twanged out on a lute, slow and sad.

An absentminded finger traced the watermarks left on the oak table. This had been the longest he had gone without bursting into tears. Perhaps there were none left in him. He closed his weary dark eyes for a moment, breathing in the slightly musty air around him.

* * *

 

The battle was much more difficult than they anticipated and Dorian, much to his embarrassment, was the first to go down. A large wall of red magic caught him before he was able to get out of the way, knocking him into a  pile of forgotten masonry. Almost instantly Evelyn was at his side, sword and shield in hand, ready to fend off anything else to come his way.

“Come on, get up.” She looped his arm over her shoulders in an effort to pull him to his feet. A sharp pain in his back made him fall back to the ground.

“I’m afraid that’s not happening Darling.” Even now he remembered how the pain felt like electricity shooting up and down his backbone. “Tell me like it is. How bad is it?”

“I’ve never lied to you and I don’t intend on doing so now.” It almost sounded like a start to one of her jokes. Her blonde eyebrows knit together as he saw Bull’s large figure tumble to the ground several feet behind them and lay still. “We’re screwed.”

“Ah, looks like I won’t be able to make it to brunch this Sunday with your parents.” A sarcastic blend of a cough and a laugh came from him, a metallic taste in his mouth. He noted how dented and thin her armor looked. She had taken a couple hits straight on but in the heat of battle seemed to have shrugged it off. Now he wasn’t so certain.

Half of her freckled face was already obscured in blood from the deep gash on her hairline above her left temple. Her blue eyes hardened in a way that he had never seen before yet he knew instinctively what it meant. A horrifying but necessary decision played on in her mind before she took one last big breath and made a small nod to herself. Yes it must be done, she seemed to reason. 

A single bottle rested on her hip tied by a leather strap. Unshaken she removed it from it’s simple bind and held it out to him. Somewhere he heard a loud thunk of a body hitting stone. Cole perhaps?

“It’s the last one. Make good use of it.” A gust of wind played with a loose lock of her yellow hair that had made it’s way out of her braid stained with mud and blood. “Get them out of here.”

"No." Dorian muttered as his heart began to beat in his head, stomach plummeting. "No we can all get out of this alive. We’ll retreat. We will- "

A tender smile of pity creeps on to her face, an image that will be etched into his mind forever. The potion is shoved into his hand, her gauntlet clad fingers going push down around his forcing him to grasp it. She holds on tightly there for a moment before letting go of it, her sly and confident grin back on her face. One final hurrah. One final moment for Dorian to remember her as she was.

"Hey, ugly!" She bellows as her right hand rears back, tightly gripping the enarms of her shield before releasing them when Evelyn brought it over her head.

When the shield makes a connection to the back of the creature named Corypheus’ head she is halfway upon him very much like a Mabari Hound charging blindly at its prey lost in the thrill of the hunt.

“Childish antics for an equally childish human.” He mutters, shrugging off the blow as if it were a pebble coming from a slingshot.

His large claw like hand reached back before hurling another bolt of crimson magic her way. Evelyn dodged to the right, her grasp on her sword tightened as she made her way in for a hit. Corypheus was ready almost immediately, more light flaring around his hand once more as Evelyn raised her sword high to bring it down on to her foe.

_No. No, she’s too close there’s no way-_

He was right.

The spell finally hit its target at full force. Her body was flung back several feet before hitting the ground limply with a sharp yelp. The loyal sword finally lost its grip and clamored to the ground far out of the arm's reach of his mistress. Evelyn clutched at her side, armor finally broken and releasing a quickly forming pool of red under her.

“Evelyn!” Dorian quickly fumbled with the cork of the bottle, cursing it in the process. Why hadn't he taken it sooner? Why hadn't he helped her instead of just laying there like a helpless infant?

Finally the bottle opened and he threw the potion back, only feeling some of his injuries heal. Corypheus towered over the crumpled heap of the Inquisitor as he struggled to his feet. She put both hands on the ground in an effort to lift herself to her up causing her to release a sharp cry of pain accompanied by a damp trickle from her side hitting the stones.   

“How unsurprising.” A low chuckle escapes their enemy. “Humans meddling. Never knowing when to quit.”

Corypheus brought his arm up once more, magic cracking around it in a sphere. Dorian gripped his staff, desperately calling into the fade for anything. A warm flame grew in his fist, yes this would work just nicely. He focused on it, the warmth growing quickly and then he released it when he knew it was ready.

At the same time the Inquisitor raised her right hand in front of her, steady as if she was just closing another tear in the fade. Her mouth moves but Dorian could not hear the words as a flash of green light sputters out of her palm. Energy quickly building into a roaring crescendo in front of her before flaring out in a blinding emerald flash, expanding rapidly across the battlefield.

He was able to see his humble ball of fire soar into the middle of the clash of magic before being engulfed by the far more illuminate source. The light grew even brighter as he instinctively covered his eyes with his forearm. Three cracks rang out, each one was louder and shook the earth more than the previous. Then there was only silence and the mage was finally able to see again.

Neither were to be seen. All that was left to even indicate that a battle had happened was the expansive black scorch mark where the two had once been and the still wet pool of blood. The world was all too still. Dorian's legs trembled as he moved forward, scanning the battlefield for any sign of his friend. This was no different than before and any moment she would come waltzing out of another rift. She had to. 

But there was nothing. 

“ _I’m sorry._ ” A small wavering voice cut through the silence. “ _The smell of sandalwood, leather polish, and something I could never quite put my finger on._ ”

Cole sat braced against a stone pillar a couple paces away, left hand clutching his bloodied arm. Eyes wide and fixated on the fragmented remains of their friend.

“ _I’m so sorry. Golden eyes, warm and kind._ ” When Dorian grew closer he noticed how labored the boy’s breathing was.

Dorian would always remember how eerie the stillness was, how the minutes passed by like hours. He looked up into the now bare sky, still so unknowing of what to do. Why didn’t he know what to do?  

“ _It hurts_.” Cole sputtered out, “ _Oh Maker, it hurts._ ”

Evelyn would be so disappointed. How could his poor friend ever forgive him for not being strong enough? How could he forgive himself, standing on the stair steps in front of the rest of the inquisition. Voices of his colleagues asking where she was and he just stood there like a child asked a question he didn't know the answer to. Cole to his right helping him brace up Bull with great difficulty, his voice still muttering over and over the mantra of Evelyn’s last thoughts.

_Oh Maker, it hurts._

* * *

 

“Dorian?” A deep voice flashed him back to reality. The song played down below was in a different tempo and key as the previous one but the same soft feminine voice sang along. 

"Oh, you're back." Bull sat across him on a stool far to small for him, a look of concern growing more pronounced with each passing moment. "Sorry. I just, ah, lost myself for a moment."

"You okay?" Bull pushed forward a mug of ale before taking a swig of his own, never once taking his eyes off his partner.  

Dorian welcomed the beverage with a large swig before placing it down in front of him with a thunk. "Can't say that I am." 

He felt his hand slowly encompassed by a larger and firmer one. A puff of laughter escaped him when he saw the Qunari's hand grasping his, strange to see him be so gentle.

"Now I _know_ you're concerned for me." Dorian tightened his clasp, welcoming warmth of another. 

"I'm not one for talking about feelings." Iron Bull stated the obvious. "But I was there too. I saw what happened to Boss. I'm going through something too."

"If we're going to start talking about feelings," He took his mug in his free hand, downing the rest of the ale in a couple of gulps. "we're going to need more drinks."

"I knew there was a reason why I liked you." Bull's throaty chuckle thinned into a grin before finishing his own drink and abandoning Dorian's hand for his glass. "Be back in a sec. Don't go off day dreaming about me again, okay?" With a sly wink of his only good eye he departed back down to the main floor. 

The small tingle of warmth building in Dorian's chest dwindled as Iron Bull departed. Resting his back on a sturdy wooden beam behind him, collected his thoughts, forced himself to push down the growing storm inside him. This would be good, he decided. Forget his problems even if it was just for a moment. 

Above the subdued murmurs and controlled commotion of the tavern Dorian could hear faint footsteps on the floor above him, the one only inhabited by one person that he knew of. The sound would only travel so far before turning around and retracing the steps it had just taken. 

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ A soft male voice repeated over and over again. 

"Stop it." Dorian's fist clenched tight in his lap, choking down a large lump in his throat. "Stop it, please."

It stopped so suddenly that Dorian wondered if he had only imagined it.

 

 

 

 


End file.
